


When Your Heart Stops Beating

by canistakahari



Series: FBI AU [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Injury, M/M, Missing Scene, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim is worried about Bones, it can manifest in some irritating ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Your Heart Stops Beating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clio (clio_jlh)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/gifts).



> Clio wanted "who and how it is decided that Leonard has healed enough for them both to pull out all the insane sexual tricks they've each been hiding under their respective hats, and how well that turns out for them."

“No, Bones, it’s okay, I can—”  
  
“Jim, fucking  _stop_ , I’m  _fine_ , would you—”  
  
“—just come over there, relax, I’ll—”  
  
“Are you even listening to me? I said—”  
  
“—do it, don’t worry—”  
  
“God help me, Jim, if you don’t climb on top of me and proceed in fucking me stupid in the next thirty seconds, I’m  _leaving_.”  
  
Jim finally stops talking. Thank  _Christ_. In fact, he stops talking and  _stays_  quiet for a full minute, staring at McCoy with an endearingly startled expression on his face. “What? You live here,” he says dumbly.  
  
McCoy squirms out from under the gentle bracket of Jim’s thighs, smacking him on the knee in frustration. “Yeah,” says McCoy, “I do. So? You continue to insist on  _not fucking me_ , so I might as well just go to Chris’s place and get molly-coddled  _there_.”  
  
“But Bones,” says Jim, his face wounded. “I just thought—”  
  
“That I don’t know my own limits?” demands McCoy. “And even though you talked real big about, what was it, ‘folding me in half and fucking me into next week,’ that actually translates to deciding you’re gonna get me all excited and then backtrack? Goddammit, Jim, I can’t take any more of this. It was sweet, at first, when I was actually in pain. Really. Considerate and caring.”  
  
“You were  _shot_ ,” protests Jim, voice heated.   
  
“Four weeks ago!” yells McCoy. “I’m 100% recovered as of the last doctor’s visit! He even  _said_ —you won’t believe this, but my kind-faced geriatric doctor even  _said_  I could resume all manner of sexual activity without having to be extra special careful.”  
  
“I didn’t want to put any strain on you,” says Jim defensively. The kid really needs to get his ears cleaned out.  
  
“You’re not even listening—hell, Jim, how old do you actually think I am?” snaps McCoy irritably. “If you want to sit on my dick, Jim,  _by all means_ , but don’t do it just because you think it’ll be  _easier_  on my poor broken body. You were babbling about wanting to fuck me, I  _want_  you to fuck me, so  _fucking fuck_  me.”  
  
Jim sits stunned and naked and gorgeous on the end of the bed, eyes narrowed as he sweeps his gaze over McCoy’s equally naked body. It’s a look that’s sharply assessing, and it stutters a bit over the scar on McCoy’s abdomen, smooth and silver and faded into quiet retirement. Just as McCoy is getting ready to give up and finish his huff elsewhere, Jim apparently makes up his mind, and McCoy very abruptly finds himself tumbled over onto his back, Jim pinning his wrists to the mattress on either side of his head.   
  
“Well,” says McCoy breathlessly. “Look who found his balls.” He wraps his legs around Jim’s waist and stifles a moan as their erections slide together.

Jim ruts against him lazily, leans in and bites at McCoy’s lower lip until he opens his mouth in surprise and lets Jim in to lick and suck and do whatever it is he needs to do to reassure himself that this is _okay_  now.  
  
“C’mon,” rumbles McCoy. He locks his ankles and jerks Jim lower, pressing their hips together.   
  
“You’re surprisingly flexible,” grunts Jim, his lips parting in a soundless groan.   
  
“What was it you were going to do?” says McCoy, squirming as Jim’s fingers brush briefly against his hole.   
  
“Bend you in half,” Jim says in a rough voice, one dry fingertip rubbing up inside him. “Fold you into the bed and fuck you so hard you’ll be sore for a week. Then do it all over again, slower, fuck you and fuck you and  _fuck you_  until you’re hard again, begging for more.”  
  
“You’ve got that much endurance?” McCoy says, deliberately injecting disbelief into his voice.   
  
Jim scoffs. “I could nail you for an entire afternoon, Bones.”  
  
“Then  _stop talking about it_  and  _do it_!” McCoy growls. “There are no more stitches, all the tissue is healed, there’s nothing to  _break_!”  
  
Jim’s mouth tightens and he gets that look on his face that usually prefaces the undertaking of inadvisable challenges. “ _Three_  times,” he threatens. He rocks his hips and McCoy’s breath hitches as his cock slots right up against the tight pucker of his hole.   
  
“Well, that’s just lunacy,” mutters McCoy. “Also, you still appear to be talking. Start fucking, or I’ll turn this damn car around.”  
  


oOo

  
  
Twice.   
  
McCoy comes twice, Jim comes three times, and by the time McCoy is sprawled upside down on the ruined sheets, come staining his stomach and sticky between his legs, dizzy from orgasm, Jim is ready to go again, kneeling in the centre of the mattress as he jacks his cock, smirking down at McCoy.   
  
“How’s your back?” he says smugly.   
  
“Never you mind about my back,” slurs McCoy.   
  
And, actually, his back kind of twinges. Jim wasn’t kidding about folding him practically double. His ass is another story. A tentative clench of muscles reveals McCoy can still feel the thick press of Jim’s dick inside him.  
  
He sighs happily. Although he appears to have unleashed a sex-crazed monster that can back up his imaginative fantasies with  _fact_ , at least Jim isn’t treating him like he’s made of glass anymore.   
  
Mission accomplished.  
  
“If you think my dick is going to approach anything remotely resembling hard sometime in the next twelve hours, you’re highly mistaken,” mumbles McCoy, rolling onto his belly. “Usually I’ve only got one in me.”  
  
“Still think I’m all talk?” says Jim.   
  
“No,” mumbles McCoy sullenly. “But I  _know_  you’re all ego.”  
  
“Close enough,” laughs Jim, crawling over McCoy to press a kiss to the nape of his neck. His questing hands pet him all over, one resting protectively on his hip as the other teases between the slick cheeks of his ass.  
  
“Unngh,” moans McCoy. “You, sir, are just taking liberties, now.”  
  
“Always, Bones,” says Jim, laughing again. “Always.”


End file.
